Numb
by ValharaMoria
Summary: DeidaraxOC Oneshot. It makes me glad I can feel. That you made me feel. That I'm no longer so...numb.  #3 of 100 oneshot challenge


**(A/N: I went ahead and rewrote this a bit. I originally did this at about three in the morning and never reread it, just threw it up...I found it yesterday and reread it...I can't believe I actually put that crap on fanfiction, it looked like I didn't ever take a grammar class in my life. Anyway, I rewrote about three fourths of the thing, and reworded some. Hope it sounds better, thanks.)**

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The Akatsuki were no more to me than just a group of murderers, all misfits that killed just to gain more power. Nothing about you made you seem even human in my eyes.  
When I was brought here, targeted because of my bloodline trait, they caged me in that dark cell, torturing me until I became numb to everything, even the pain and emotions, that giving myself to such a cause didn't bother me, or even catch my interest.  
Leader-sama was fine with such indifference, so long as I did as I was told and then locked myself away in the room provided for me.

You were an odd one though; one of the only two people would try to see me. The dark haired man in the mask and you, who seemed so different from the others.

At first you would just sit just inside the room, next to my door, talking more to yourself than to me. I barely even listened enough to answer, but that didn't stop you. You continually asked to come in, seating yourself by the door to talk about anything you'd thought up.

Originally, I would wonder why, something that actually caught my attention. Then I was told about your fascination with art; something that I used to have such a passion for. That's what I used to call it; my ability to explode any skin and blood body, human or animal, with just a slight touch, a force of my chakra. The explosion was just a moment of color, beauty, as they would explode from the inside out within seconds.

Was this why you came? As the days turned to weeks, I would notice how you came in more and more, and by three months of being ignored you now sat at the end of the bed, staring at my back as you talked and I just sat there, reading books.

I can't remember when I started to feel like I needed to say something, or at least listen to what you were saying. But I do remember the day I turned myself around, propped myself up against the wall, book on the bed beside me, and completely acknowledged your presence. It seemed to encourage you, your smile nearly always present.

It took me awhile to get used to you after that, so smug and grinning. But I never said no when you asked to come in to talk, I always just opened the door and let you inside, seating myself to listen to you.

The first time you brought your art for me to see, I was a bit surprised. I remember leaning forward to get a good look as your hands grasped the soft clay in a way so that I couldn't see it. I remember waiting anxiously for you to finish, knowing you were watching me as well, grinning once again.

Finally, you held out a tiny bird, no bigger than a coin, and set it into my hand. I stared for a long time, watching it hop around in my palm, looking up at me now and then.  
I watched in fascination as the tiny bird of clay looked so alive before flying to the other side of the room to perch on the wall, seconds before it exploded in a flash of red, orange and yellow.

I leaned forward, looking at you intently, before I held out my hand again. I watched your eyes light up as you began again, this time producing a clay spider no larger than the bird.  
I was delighted, watching it crawl around my palm and I put my other hand near it so it would climb over it as well.  
The spider scuttled across the room as well, combusting as the bird had and I let out a short giggle.

You were silent a moment, then, "Are you willing to talk a bit now?"  
I felt something in the back of my mind that hadn't been there since I'd come to stay here: Embarrassment.  
I nodded quickly and you ignored my darkening cheeks. Your eyes didn't leave mine, though, "I'm Deidara. What's your name?"  
No one had told my name to the other members? I smiled, "Lana."

After that day, I left my room more but only by your side, as if the numbness would return if you left me.  
My art seemed to amuse you and you accompanied me on most of my missions.  
The only time I felt alone was when you would return to your room, leaving me to my thoughts. All I could think about is the torture I endured to be here and the numbness that seemed from another lifetime, too far away to feel truly real.

I'm happy now, for every second I spend in this forsaken place, for every day I come home smelling of blood and death. Because it means you'll sit in my room, next to my bed, talking to me for hours to keep the shadows away, leaving only so it can start all over again tomorrow.  
It makes me glad I can feel. That you made me feel.  
That I'm no longer so…numb.


End file.
